


The Diamond Sky

by Michael Stonožka (JewJitsue)



Category: Homestuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 03:02:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14685108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JewJitsue/pseuds/Michael%20Stono%C5%BEka
Summary: So basically I appropriated Corvid_Knight's integrated worlds AU and mad my own mini AU of it (AU^2?) and then wrote this. The changes to integrated worlds are that alternia went through a big civil war after taking over earth, and this is written from the perspective of a resistance soldier watching the last battle of the war, as the empire falls.the original Integrated Worlds AU:https://archiveofourown.org/series/999555





	The Diamond Sky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Corvid_Knight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvid_Knight/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Adoption](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14516211) by [Corvid_Knight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvid_Knight/pseuds/Corvid_Knight). 



> A star (*) indicates a footnote in the end notes

“In the time leading up to the assault on Sol, there was little for us to do. Our fleet was not due to arrive for some weeks, and even though our commanders did their best to keep us working, there was really nothing left to do but wait. That didn’t stop us, of course. Even though we had long since overcome the imperial conditioning, we all still and trouble breaking the subtle, subconscious dread of inactivity. 

It was in this period of limbo that I build a casual familiarity with one of the human refugees who had been living on our base, a man who only ever introduced himself as “Fred”. Since they were unable to use most Alternian biotechnology due to their unique physiology, the refugees were allowed to wander around the complex more or less unsupervised. In a vain effort to keep myself busy, I spent most of my time in the secondary radar center trying to improve grid efficiency. Fred was a short, harmless man with folded eyes, and despite our utter lack of resources he always managed to dress somewhat presentably, and have a more or less cheerful attitude. Or at least I assumed he did, as his human accent was so thick I only understood around half of everything he ever said to me, and had to often ask for help from my more english-fluent comrades. I learned later that he had been a christian missionary in the old United States when the empire first arrived, and had only survived the first processing by taking refuge with the original, human-led resistance, that had formed long before we even knew Earth existed. Our conversations were often brief and cloudy, but all together enjoyable. My english improved more in those days than it had previously, and it was my first introduction to the concept of theology (Though as is obvious his particular sect was not the one I eventually stuck with, to his muted but clear dismay). He spent almost all of his time trying to translate passages from the New Testament into alternian, reading from a copy of the bible that he had somehow kept safe and intact throughout the empire’s entire 14 year occupation. His effort however, while valiant in his evident devotion, was in my view more detrimental to his cause than anything he had yet encountered. However, there was one passage that he related well enough the day before the fleet arrived to leave an impact on me.

_'_ **_12_ ** _ I watched as he opened the sixth seal. There was a great earthquake. The sun turned black like sackcloth made of goat hair, the whole moon turned blood red,  _

**_13_ ** _ And the stars in the sky fell to earth, as figs drop from a fig tree when shaken by a strong wind.' _

 

At first, I felt frustrated with him. We were about to win the war! After all we’ve been through, after all YOU have been through, why read about the end of the world? Why tell me stories of the sun going black and the land opening beneath our feet, to crush our bones and burn us alive? I mulled over and wallowed in my own confusion and pessimism up until the moment I found myself seated in the control chair of an anti-aircraft embankment. 

Since Earth had become the de-facto homeworld for the empire, a powerful planet-wide shield, similar to the one on Alternia, had been erected. Since all the imperial troops had been sent to Jupiter to engage the resistance at Ganymede, we had an opening to engage it and prevent them from returning to the surface. Since the shield was strong enough to survive a CME and still have energy to spare, we all knew that there was no realistic chance that the imperialists would attempt to make a ground assault. However, our commanders had learned from their human counterparts, as well as strategic losses throughout the civil war, that it's better safe than sorry.

The battles in the Jovian system lasted almost 2 weeks. So we were left taking shifts spending hours doing nothing but sitting in uncomfortable chairs, and then taking another shift in a different area of the complex sitting in different, slightly more uncomfortable chairs as we switched from the embankments to the radar stations or watchtowers. I can’t imagine how the crews of the capital ships and space fighters in orbit felt, being on duty almost at all times in conditions no less cramped than a poorly made broom closet. 

We were stationed in a captured imperial ground-to-orbit torpedo base on an island near the equator, that had been named “Guam” before Earth had been colonized. It was a warm, breezy night, and I sat with my feet propped up with my uniform jacket unbuckled, staring up at the shimmering stars, Fred leaning against the side of the railgun’s pedestal, evidently reading and rereading the same chapter from his bible. The sun had set hours before I had come on duty, and I saw the sliver of a waning Luna hanging just above the horizon, sending out waves of silver light across the black ocean. In the distance, against the soft wind and crashing waves, I head the somber playing of a lone accordion. One of the refugees, a jew from Lithuania, had decided to make it his mission to improve the base’s “mood” as it were. Normally, he tried to accomplish this by playing traditional celebratory jigs, but it seemed in the intervening days since his last un-requested performance, he had decided that calmness was what we needed more than joy. None of us were willing to admit it, but we were thankful he was there that night* . 

By this time, I had forgotten almost all about Fred’s description of the Rapture, and instead opted to sustain my prolonged depressive relapse by sending myself into a practically vegetative state, as i contemplated the ultimate irrelevancy of our efforts. I didn’t doubt our cause, but every now and then I became aware of the inevitability of entropy, an awareness that I would be unable to pull myself out for some time. The same question kept running through my mind: “ Khè topaldza, Ċadz jodetz?*” . If death is inevitable, then why are we working so hard? Is it not logical to build our own comforts so that when we sleep for the last time, we are in a warm bed? If all things must eventually burn, then why are we fighting so hard to help this galaxy? Is it not easier to try to preserve ourselves from pain so we might rot in peace? The feeling of existential anguish was excruciating, but at the same time almost intoxicating. 

And then I saw it. Several degrees up from Luna, the faint white of the stars was being interrupted the distinct green flickering of a group of ships exiting hyperspace. As I sat up, I saw the other soldiers in our unit point at the now fading lights. “Radar.” Someone spoke into the microphone on the opposite wall. “I have visual contact on several hyperspace fissures. Can you confirm?” After several seconds, the garbled words came through on the intercom. “Confirmed. 25 imperial battleships now entering LEO . Fleet moving to engage.” The next several minutes heard the frantic squeaking of rubber books as we scrambled to ready our weapons, with the base alarms beginning to sound soon afterward. Though we all knew we would probably not even have to waggle our trigger fingers, we still kept ourselves at strict attention, looking out almost entirely though our crosshairs in clenched anticipation. It was several, eternity long moments before we saw the fighting start in space.

I had never witnessed orbital combat before, as I had been sent to join ground forces on Earth by the resistance almost the moment I matured. So when I saw the blue and red streaks of laserfire, the blinding blasts of blue light from torpedo detonations, and the occasional sweeping wave of purple and thunder-like rumbling of a shield impact, I could not help but be awed by the sheer power i was witnessing. As time went on, the streaks and bursts increased, until almost half the sky appeared to be laced with fire, as sparks slid smoothly across dying embers. “There’s so many lights!” Fred remarked in english behind me. “It’s like the stars are moving!”.

And then I remembered. 

 

_ “And the stars in the sky fell to earth, as figs drop from a fig tree when shaken by a strong wind.” _

 

In my career I have had the privilege to interact with some of the best writers and philosophers of our generation in my search for truth. I’ve helped with, as well as been responsible, for some of the most significant theological and ideological revolutions in recent history, both on Earth and in the former empire. I’ve been almost endlessly praised for my ability to articulate my own thoughts as well as guess those of others. But, to this day, I am utterly lost when it comes to getting across the significance of these next few minutes, let alone putting words to when I went through. Even now, the echoes of joy are enough to move me to speechlessness. Almost every day, when I look out on the sunlit landscapes of the day, or gaze at the simmering, porous curtain of night, I flash back to that June evening on the sea when I felt the divine presence for the first time. Yet I am unable to relate it to even the most advanced thinkers. I don’t know why this revelation had the effect that it did, particularly because it was not a revelation at all. I gained no new knowledge from the experience, as I had been free of the Hemoistic doctrine for almost all my life. 

So why did I react the way I did? Why was I looking through my scope one moment, and hyperventilating in Fred’s arms the next, sobbing uncontrollably? Why was it a verse about the world ending that drove me to this experience? Why here? Why not during one of my earlier conversations with Fred? Why now? Why not many sweeps earlier, when the resistance trainees were given our pep talk before being sent to our duty as double-agents?. To answer that in a counterintuitive fashion, I think I will begin by utterly refuting the validity of those very questions. To ask why a word had no meaning at one time but did at another, or that a time had no meaning to one word but did another, is to assume that the actions we take and the consequences we face occur in a vacuum, and that they are not inherently caused by one another. It’s a mindset that I’ve seen many times over time, and in my experience only comes in two forms. It is either the silent gunman that I was in those now distant days, slowly shuffling from duty shift to duty shift without a word or sound, but screaming inside their own head, consumed by the evident mundanity of all that they are trying to accomplish. Or, it is the neo-hemoist, who shrouds themself in a cloak of smug assuredness and blind passion to their cause, but who in fact are rendered so anxious and paranoid about their own insignificance that they would deny it even to themselves. 

It is this thought process that I am so thankful to have escaped. In my reflections on all my experiences I can pinpoint vital turning points, crossroads in my journey that had I pick even a slightly different option would lead me to the sluggishness of the pessimist or the undisciplined rage of the fascist. Perhaps even an unthinkable combination of the two. So, to form a half answer to my thesis question, I think that there on the island of Guam, staring up at the blazing light of death, all the ideological and principal doctrines the resistance had exposed me to finally sank in. Sure, I knew that all people are entitled to the fruits of their labour, and that all people deserve to be loved and fed, but beneath that was always the fact, the knowledge that both ticked and screeched inside my head, that death would come. That it would consume me and all the people I tried to help. Even Fred’s passage, the first pebble that initiated the landslide of enlightenment, only helped that incessant knocking. But when I connected the two, saw the kinship between the falling stars of the christian apocalypse and the fall of the Alternian Empire, a simple fact became clear to me: All things die, including evil; and the death of evil causes the birth of life. This empire, this hellish superpower, subdued and oppressed this galaxy for almost ten thousand years. It subjugated and crushed the spirit of love and desire for creation out of the very suns that warmed their ancestors. Even the cherubs of Calypso, the strongest will creatures ever to live, found themselves crushed under the purple boot. The empire stripped its own people of moral and principle character, killing their minds and putting their bodies to work. The imperium had always been there, and seemed as immovable and a mountain, blocking out the sun, and as unstoppable as a river, carving apart the landscape.

_ And I watched it die.  _ I saw the beams of energy that liberated our galaxy from the hands of tyranny, and gave my people an opportunity to blaze out own trails through the cosmos, both in our minds, and in the universe. There, on that tiny island, on a tiny planet, in a tiny solar system, I watched the source of all our doubts and fears go up in flames.

That night, I watched the hand of G-d, and felt the Divine presence. And I will never forget it.” 

_ -Excerpt from “ _ **_The Diamond Sky_ ** _ ”, Memoir written by Rabbi Ċékhejō Dzaŕpad, translated from the Alternian by David Strider Sr.  _

**Author's Note:**

> *"Difficult phrase to translate. Approximation would be: 'If our would is thus, Why this course of action?'"  
> *"I later learned that he had chosen 'Waltz No. 2' by Dmitri Shostakovich, a piece which to this day helps to calm me greatly."


End file.
